Comforting Chocolate
by Evelina888
Summary: There is something strangely comforting in chocolate. Scorpius Malfoy is kind of like my chocolate.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Simply a pointless something written to break up my writer's block.**

**The line in the middle signifies the beginning of a different story.**

* * *

There is something strangely comforting in chocolate. Whenever I feel sad, I gorge on chocolate.

Scorpius Malfoy is kind of like my chocolate. He's always there, an ever-constant presence. And when I ask why, he doesn't reply. He only looks at me with those metallic eyes and I know.

He hates me, but he can't tear himself away from me. He is my chocolate; I am his drug.

Whoever said there is a fine line between love and hate was right. And I don't like it. It scares me. How can you love someone you hate whole-heartedly? The animosity never fades. We're always hurting each other.

So why do we harbor a secret intensity? When we're alone together, and we're done exchanging insults, he looks at me with those metallic eyes. There is nothing alluring about his eyes. They're cold and hard and make you want to hide.

What entices me is his voice.

But when we're alone, we always end up sitting in silence. And in silence I hate him less than in commotion, even though his eyes make me feel cold, and only his voice can warm me back up.

So I've come to the conclusion that love and hate – it's the same thing. When we yell and wound and sting, are we really hugging? And when we kiss and hold on to each other, are we really hurting each other more than we care to admit?

* * *

Fog from my mouth makes me think of dragons and cold, sunny days.

Cold and sunny days make me nostalgic.

My head pounds when I sit by the lake – too many memories – of lives lost (my parents) and hearts broken (me).

He broke my heart by this lake. And he hates me. He is cold, yet he is my sun. He makes me nostalgic.

I used to absorb him the way I absorb the sun's heat on cold but sunny days.

Thinking of him makes me question everything. How can he have broken my heart when I couldn't really have loved him in the first place?

I'm too young for love; or at least I think so.

Something catches my eye. A piece of paper flutters, flutters, caught up in the wind and the air, before setting down softly and floating on the surface of the lake.

Even as I watch the water swallows it. It is about to disappear completely.

For unknown reasons, I wave my wand and save the paper. It is an essay. The ink is blotted and unreadable. But rescued.

A shadow crosses me. "Thank you."

It is him. His mouth is quirking.

A faint attempt at a smile? I'm not sure.

What I am sure of – this is a new beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Got a tip that to break up writer's block you just have to keep writing.**

**Something written to do just that.**

* * *

She is short, short, short; but her hair is dark and long, long, long. Her eyes are clearer and bluer even than Sirius's – and they're nice, her eyes. They look like stars twinkling with affection, as she gazes at Sirius. She stands with his arm around her waist.

They quietly talk with another couple near the punch table.

And now Sirius turns towards her and kisses her softly and sweetly, chastely.

She wears an ice blue floor-length gown that doesn't really match her eyes, which are more like the sky. It complements her dark hair nicely, though.

How Sirius manages to gaze at her with such clear adoration, he doesn't know. Where did the old Sirius go? The one that loved shagging a different girl every other night?

But they've all matured. He supposes that's what a war does to you. What was supposed to be a raucous party has turned into a sober, quiet event of pretty girls and handsome boys, all dead-set on taking their NEWTs, getting grades, and doing something with their lives. Most of them are too scared to fight, though. The girl in the ice blue dress, Sirius's girl, is scared too. Sirius is trying to convince her.

Then again, some parts of Sirius never die, he thinks. Was it normal for a boy to be encouraging his girlfriend to fight, rather the other way around?

They make a rather good-looking couple, he reflects. Both with dark hair, blue eyes. Sirius is taller; her head barely grazes his chin. His arm has to rest a little lower than is probably comfortable to line up with her waist, and her hair gets caught in his fingers, it's so long. But Sirius simply rubs the threads between several fingers, looking perfectly at ease. She does too.

They're both fearless that way; neither cares what surrounding people think. That's what makes them an almost intimidating couple. They carve their own path, do their own thing. It fits them.


	3. Chapter 3

Flying through the rain; and cold, cold ever piercing her skin. There is something happy about it, though. Pushing the pedals ever harder and almost literally _flying _along the narrow, rain-soaked dirt lane and past the melancholy reds, yellows, and oranges of the autumn trees about her.

It is a beautiful scene.

Her hair matches the colors of the trees. The messy bun drips with steady water, and she can feel the hairband struggling to hold it in. Her hair has always been wild. _She _has always been wild; always the one to do those crazy things that people think about but never actually act upon. She is rather impulsive; known for it, actually. Every thought that comes into her head usually makes its way out of her mouth. The thought makes her grin.

Suddenly, she flies past a large mansion. An impulsive thought to explore makes her careen to a stop. She notes that out of one of the windows a face peers out – a face she knows. It is James Potter. Her mouth instantly curves into a silly smirk. Of _course _James Potter lives in a mansion.

He returns the smirk, and vanishes from the window. She gets off her bike and leans against it, tilting her face up to feel the cool rain on her skin.

"You're crazy, Evans!" Potter yells, appearing at his door.

"So I've been told!" She shouts, striving to make herself heard above the wind, a delighted smile adorning her face.

"You're trying to get pneumonia, right?" He asks.

"I never get sick!" Lily protests, rolling her bike closer to the porch. "At least not from this," she admits, making it to the safety of the porch roof, and leaving her bike carelessly on the soaking steps.

"Pretty careless way to leave your bike," James raises his eyebrows.

Lily doesn't even glance at it. "It's got an Impervius charm on it."

Lily takes her hair out of its bun and shakes it around like a wet dog, spraying water everywhere.

"Hey!" James yells, backing farther into his house. "That water's cold!"

"Live a little, James," Lily scolds. Her eyes stand out vividly in her pale face. There is in excited light in them, one that James has never seen directed at him before. Her hair is wet and messy. The water makes it look almost brown. And her clothes are absolutely soaked.

"You must be uncomfortable in those wet clothes," James says. (Thank Merlin her shirt isn't white!)

Lily glances down at them. "Now that I'm not getting more soaked every minute . . . kind of," she shrugs.

"Well, would you like to come in?" James asks awkwardly. Lily shakes her head. A mischievous light comes on in her eyes, one that James recognizes all too well – the countless times he's seen it in his friends . . .

"No," Lily says now, "you're going to live a little!"

"Hey, hey, hey," James backs away, alarmed, "I live!"

"Until you've done this you haven't lived," Lily says shortly, without a hint of amusement on her face. She takes his hand and drags him out into the wet.

"Okay, that's really cold! I don't care what you say, Evans, this is bloody freezing!" He tries to dig his heels into the ground, but she is striding along too quickly for him to gain purchase in the slippery grass.

Suddenly, the rain begins pouring harder. Now the raindrops are large and fat and he can feel every one as they hit his head. He is soaked within a minute.

Lily gives a shriek of excitement. "I love this!" He suddenly gets a glimpse of her face. Her eyes are gleaming in wild happiness, a stark, vivid green, her face paler than ever, and with the widest smile he's ever seen on her face, she looks like pure, unadulterated joy embodied in a human. Her hair is completely straight, weighted down by water; his bangs, also soaked, drip into his eyes, and he flicks them away impatiently: he wants to look at her forever; so wildly expressive, so unrestrained.

He registers her staring back at him, and he knows that she recognizes the look in his eyes.

But she just takes his other hand too and twirls around, and soon the smile is back on her face; and he is laughing, gazing at her like a man enraptured; and he doesn't look away from her face once. She looks everywhere: her gaze is on him, on the colorful trees, on the sky, back to him. She is not avoiding his gaze; she is simply enjoying everything at once. But she _is_ his everything, so he doesn't look anywhere else.

Soon she cartwheels to the ground, laughter taking up her breath, looking like a small child who does not know the world can go wrong. He follows suit, balancing himself on his elbow so he can still look at her. She lies spread-eagled on the ground and closes her eyes. Her eyelashes are long and black in the rain; a water droplet balances on one of them.

They lie in companionable silence until her eyes flash open; then they are off again, dancing and laughing in the rain.

* * *

Unnoticed by them, James's mother stands in the shadows of the door, watching her son, her oh-so-grown-up son, in the company of the girl he loves. She sees him stare at her like she is the world itself, and smiles, enjoying the child-like innocence of love. It does them well to forget the impending war looming on all of them.

Then she shakes her head ruefully. Only the girl James loves can have made him leave the safety of his dry porch. James hates being wet and cold more than anything.

But he doesn't seem cold; he is caught up in the heat of his emotions. As she lies with her eyes closed and he allows himself to stare at her full on, she sees his face fully. The emotion in him startles even her. His eyes glow; she can see, plain as day, that since she is happy, he is happy too.

She shakes her head again. It's not only the war that's made her little boy grow up so fast. He looks at Lily Evans the same way she remembers looking at his father when she was sixteen. Love makes you realize things and make sacrifices that you would otherwise learn about only in old age.


	4. Chapter 4

**Edited as of June 22, 2013. **

* * *

"You know, James, things aren't as bad as you think they are."

He rounds on me, face full of anger and despair. "My best friend, the one who I thought I knew better than anybody else in the world, played the fucking cruelest joke that could possibly be thought of!"

"You seem to have a flair for the dramatic. It's not as though you adore Snape."

"We're supposedly better than Snape," James bites out through clenched teeth, "and how can that be true after what _he's_ done?!"

"He was probably drunk when he thought of it," I roll my eyes, "and Sirius is just the type of person to go through with something like that."

"Why are you defending him?" James roars. "Trying to kill someone – even someone who is our worst enemy – it's something to be taken lightly!"

"Are you going to throw away 5 years of the best friendship in Hogwarts just because of a stupid joke?" I ask calmly.

James turns away to face the window, fingers clutching the windowsill so hard they turn white.

"I don't know how I can forgive something like that. And the worst thing is, Moony," he mutters next, almost ruefully, glancing at me, "is that I had to save Snape's stupid arse."

"And why are you so calm?" James demands next. "You almost . . ." He trails off and shakes his head, unable to continue.

I clench my jaw tightly together. "Don't you think that's exactly what I've been trying _not _to think about for the past 48 hours?" I hiss, any pretense of calm vanished. "Sometimes I really wonder where your sensitivity is, James. You _know – _know _perfectly _well – that that's a sore subject for me."

He looks at me with a sorry look on his face. "Moony, I'm sorry – I wasn't thinking -"

"Damn right you weren't," I hiss, and walk away, back towards the dormitories.

It was supposed to be an unmentionable subject.

* * *

The next day, Moony's sitting with Lily at breakfast when I come down. I am sorely tempted to join them, but one look at my friend's mutinous face and at Lily's disappointed one, and I veer off to sit with my Quidditch teammates.

That's before I realize that Sirius is sitting right there.

We make eye contact, but I turn away before he can say anything. I resign myself to dropping down across from Lily and Remus.

"Do you really think you ought to be here right now, James?" Lily asks as I fork eggs onto my plate.

"It was a choice between Moony and Sirius." I grit my teeth. "Who do you think I chose?"

"You could just, I don't know, _sit by yourself_?" Remus's tone is scathing.

I look up at him. "And feel the wrath from you and the questioning looks from the rest of the student body? Nah, mate, there's no way I'm up for that."

"I don't know how you can brush things off so easily," Remus hisses.

"You can hold a grudge, Moony," I shrug. "I'm not good at stuff like that."

A moment too late I realize the impact Moony's words were supposed to have on me.

"Merlin, sorry, Moony-"

"You know, sometimes I don't even know why I try with you," are Remus's next words. He gets up and stalks off.

Lily looks at me. "If I were you, I'd go after him," she says. And, true to her word, eternally-kind Lily jumps off and runs after him, leaving her breakfast.

I sigh. Eternally-kind Lily is, after all, smart with stuff like this. So I follow her advice and walk out of the Great Hall, not forgetting to Summon a few egg sandwiches to pacify Moony and to satisfy my (and undoubtedly Lily's) growling stomachs.

I glance around to make sure no one is in the corridor and take out the Marauder's Map. Seeing the grimy fingerprints my buttery hands leave, I make a mental note to ask Moony how to do that nifty Cleaning Charm he does (if he ever forgives me).

I find Remus and Lily in the Charms corridor, true to the map's direction. They sit against the wall, holding a quiet conversation with heads together.

I ignore the tiny stab of jealousy and stop above them. Remus doesn't look up, but Lily gives me a short smile, which I return.

Unsure of where to start, I think maybe the sandwiches will help.

"I brought food," I say and hold out two egg sandwiches for them to take.

They both take one, Lily with a grateful smile and Remus with a sullen frown. (You know, it's really teenage girly to refuse the offer of food, even when you're in an argument with the person offering said food. And Remus is far too sensible not to acknowledge the fact that if he doesn't eat it, he'll be hungry during Charms.)

I munch on the third one as I drop down beside Lily, thinking it would probably be better to keep some space between me and Remus (Remus and I, for you grammar Ravenclaw people) for now. (True, he's only resorted to violence once, but who knows?)

"Look, James," Moony says, "it's really petty of me to get mad at you over . . . what I did get mad at you at."

"Hey, man, it was supposed to be an unmentionable subject."

Moony cracks a smile. "That's exactly what I thought last night."

I wave a hand. "We know each other too well not to think the same thing. I just take a little longer to catch on."

"Wouldn't it be the same with Sirius, then?"

It's my turn to stare off into the distance moodily.

"It's not the same," I whine. "What Sirius did . . . that was just plain cruel."

A few seconds later: "I may forgive him . . ."

"That's my boy," Lily teases, and beams.

"In 500 years," I finish.


	5. Chapter 5

She convulsed soundlessly on the bed; eyes squeezed tightly shut, body shaking up and down. She let out a shuddering breath, heaved inwards to get some much-needed air. She would let no one hear. Because Lily Evans was not weak. Lily Evans did not cry.

It was over in a heartbeat.

She sat up resolutely, reaching for her sketchbook; wild red hair, previously strewn haphazardly over her face, fell away to reveal startlingly emerald eyes. Right now those green eyes were rimmed with red, and shining with unshed tears.

More and more inspiration grew inside of her, and her tears dried and disappeared; she just let herself draw whatever the heart commanded.

Pencil flew over paper.

Soon the sketchbook fell to her lap; she sighed into space, the dreams inside of her unable to be contained. _Him._ She glanced at her sketch: sharp cheekbones, perpetually messy black hair, burning hazel eyes . . . he seemed alive as his drawn form stared out at her from the white.

_**XXXXX**_

_One, two, three, four, five… _The ball was hurled, with vicious, lightning accuracy, into the hoop; and then again, and again, and again.

Hazel eyes, burning black, cut through the gathering gloom.

The red ball cut the air in a wide arc. Again and again the ball was thrust into hoops, being thrown into an imaginary face: white skin, glowing red eyes, slits for nostrils.

_For Lily Evans, _the boy thought savagely. The ball slammed into the middle hoop.

Dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

_For Mum,_ he thought again. The ball was flung into the right hoop.

Then his face was cut with cold air as if with knives; he realized tears were streaming down his cheeks. The Quaffle dropped soundlessly, slowly to the ground; the boy slumped over his broom. It went wayward. James didn't bother to control the broom.

What was the point? The Dark side was too strong; they would all die eventually. The rain came pouring down. The boy fell from his broom, just as a crack of lightning illuminated the sky…

_**XXXXX**_

She shrieks as a dark shape suddenly detaches itself from the air and begins falling, falling down towards the ground. She finds herself whipping out her wand and crying, "Aresto Momentum!" Even as it happens, she begins crumpling to the ground too, the tears suddenly impossible to withhold. They blind her vision, yet she still tries to struggle up as soon as she falls . . . James can't die!

She finds herself tearing down a stone hallway. Screams follow her; she ignores them.

Then she is outside; a torrent of rain adds to her salty tears. Thunder seems to rattle the earth's very foundations. They are deafening to Lily's ears….she stumbles off her course. Arms out, dripping with water; and her eyes are still dripping water too.

She begins thinking that she comes too late. Even if – somehow, impossibly, - her spell reached James, how could one survive in this storm, after hurling through the air 50 feet? Shaking her head, trying to get rid of the doubt, the tears, the inevitable grief . . . she's suddenly wetter than she was.

She can't breathe . . . what is that awful silence?

Suddenly, she can't hear the storm anymore, but she is still being thrown around . . . by the buffeting waves of the Black Lake, she realizes. She can't hear because the water is pressing on her ears; her breathing is obscured by the water now pressing on her lungs . . . her soaked clothing is dragging her down, towards the bottom, towards the end.

She can't save James now. She realizes that, however slowly, she is dying . . . Hair flowing slowly around her face, she realizes that she has sunk unbelievably deep in the lake, so low that the storm can't trouble the water anymore.

She can still move . . . but it's all becoming hazy, as if in a dream . . . slowly her eyes close; hands, legs give up struggling; and she sees what she supposes is her last waking thought: James. His beautiful eyes . . . how beautifully they burn when they're angry. She supposes he would be angry now.

She coughs. She splutters. She kicks wildly. She opens her eyes. With a sudden intake of breath, - air! - she realizes that it wasn't her last waking thought of James. There he is! In front of her . . . how strange. Wasn't he dead? Wasn't she dead?

She registers shouting.

"Are you bloody crazy, Lily? Are you insane? You could have died! Blundering out after me in this storm! It's no wonder you were thrown into the Black Lake! It's a bloody hurricane out here! You're crazy! Insane! You're . . . you saved my life." He finishes in defeat.

"And I saved yours," he adds as an afterthought.

She finds the strength to pick her arms up. She puts them around his neck. She pulls him closer and kisses him.

"I was afraid you'd died," she whispers.

Then she kisses him.

"I was afraid _you'd _died," he whispers back.

And they kiss again.

* * *

**A/N: I know the last part is in a different tense. It's on purpose.**


	6. Chapter 6

The sky outside is lulled, grey. The rain is pounding so hard that all normally straight lines are blurred, Hagrid's hut and the Quidditch Pitch nothing but dark blobs in the distance.

Lily thanks Merlin for the walls and the warm fire of the common room, protecting her from the harsh weather of spring. Unexpectedly, a warm body curls up next to Lily on the beanbag; a rough hand settles protectively around her waist.

There's another force protecting her from the outside world: James Potter . . . but love, she supposes, would be a more accurate description of the force. Love and James Potter . . . the lines surrounding the two blur in her mind. He is the epitome of perfect love, the only one she's ever known. He showers her with affection, overwhelms her with his love. Everyday when he holds her she sees the awe and admiration in his eyes, and she sees how long he's waited for this.

And something painful clenches in her gut, and her heart starts beating very very fast when she thinks about all the pain she's caused him. She cannot think about him in pain because it scares her, more badly than she is willing to admit. She can't think of him in pain because she knows that as soon as they are out of Hogwarts, out of Dumbledore's safety, the chance of him being in pain will increase rapidly. Simply for being in association with her.

She would feel incredibly guilty at the thought, but she knows that in a world where she didn't exist, James would still be fighting for people like her. For people like Sirius (the marked "traitor"), for people like Remus (the "dangerous"), for people like Peter (the underdog). So she feels comforted by this thought.

"I love you," a voice murmurs. He holds her tighter.

Lily smiles a bit. "I know." How could she doubt it? How could she doubt it when he had been showing her everyday for the past two years, right under her very blind nose? (That and the fact that he had said "I love you" every single solitary day ever since their first kiss.) Lily smiles more. "James, I love you too."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Feel bad for posting this when I should be working on my WIP. I don't think I'll ever finish that one. As much as I'd like, I'm not good for writing long stories. Short stories is more my thing. So here's another one for whoever, if anyone is, reading this little random collection of one-shots.**

**Annie Cave: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to reply. If you're still reading this, first of all, thank you for reading. I put it under Rose/Scorpius simply because that was the first chapter. In reality, this isn't any specific pairing. This is sort of just a collection of random one-shots that I'd just like to get out there for people to read.**

* * *

Even with her least favorite person of all time in the vicinity, (why did _he _have to get picked as the male representative for Gryffindor prefects?), the prefect meeting was going spectacularly. It was exactly as she imagined it to be. The Head Boy and Girl opened the meeting, speaking about the responsibility of the prefects, nothing they hadn't already told them on the train to the school. (Rose was proud of herself. She didn't zone out once during this part.) Then they'd moved on to discussing changes made to the school over the summer – not many important ones: the Whomping Willow had contracted some tree disease and been healed of it, a couple of the teachers had relocated to a different classroom because of Billywig infestations (Merlin knew how Billywigs had gotten into the castle), Hagrid had a section of his cabin expanded a bit for his dog, which was having puppies. The prefects were asked to be of help to any teachers who looked like they were still having trouble with their new classrooms, were assured that the Whomping Willow was completely safe (except that it had gone back to attacking people that got too close to it), and were asked to stomp out any rumors about Hagrid or the Whomping Willow.

They were once again warned about the consequences to those found abusing their power of deducting and adding points, and once again congratulated on their appointments of prefect-ship.

Now the time came, allotted at the beginning of the meeting, to discuss patrols. There was a sudden increase in noise level as everyone began pairing up, but the Head Girl forestalled them all by announcing that the first term would be conducted with the partner of your House and year. The second term would be with a partner of a different House, to promote inter-House unity, and it would be decided after the winter holidays whether or not partners would need to be assigned.

Rose was decidedly less proud of herself as patrol schedules were set and the meeting adjourned - she barely caught the second half of the Head Girl's speech, distracted as she was by the predicament she now found herself in.

She was stuck with Scorpius Malfoy as patrol partner, successfully avoided for five consecutive years, though in the same House and year, therefore with the same classes, common rooms, breakfast tables, etc., etc. She was stuck with a boy who's very molecular structure was a polar opposite to her own. Where she was wild (and red) haired, his platinum blonde hair always stayed where it should; what she was passionate about, he could care less about; the subjects she had trouble with, he excelled in; and so on and so forth until the only similarity Rose could find between them was that they both had exceedingly pale skin (though hers was more often covered in freckles than not).

Even if not for all this, Rose heeded her father's words, spoken all those years ago on the train station platform mere seconds before she set off to Hogwarts for the first time: a warning to stay away from Scorpius Malfoy. Rose had never found reason before not to obey her parents; more often than not she understood where they were coming from with their rules and advice, and though there was nothing particularly dangerous or disturbing about Scorpius Malfoy, she supposed all those differences were reason enough.

Still stuck in these concerning thoughts, she didn't notice the very subject of the thoughts approaching her until he was directly beside her and speaking.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Rose asked, blinking rapidly to shoo the thoughts away, before realizing, to her horror, that there _he_ was.

"I said, we're partners, then, Rose," Scorpius Malfoy repeated, sending a smile her way.

Rose's first thought was that Scorpius Malfoy was rather handsomer up close than he had ever seemed from a distance, and for a short time this rendered her rather incoherent. She cursed her easy blush, which she could feel spreading rapidly up her cheeks, cleared her throat, and said, "Right. Yeah. We are," which she didn't feel thoroughly convinced Scorpius Malfoy that she wasn't crazy; but he was nothing if not easygoing, she realized, as he simply held out his hand with another smile, and said, "I'm Scorpius Malfoy. I don't think we've ever properly met."

She took his hand and shook out of sheer disconcertion. "Rose Weasley," she repeated her name, even though he already seemed to know it.

"Right," he smiled. (He smiled a lot, Scorpius Malfoy did.) "So, Al Potter's your cousin, isn't he?" Scorpius Malfoy asked, making small talk (she supposed) as they headed out of the room (they were both going to Gryffindor Tower, after all).

"Yeah, that's him," Rose answered, rather absently as she was currently squinting up the dimly lit passage ahead of them, trying to remember if the shortcut up to the sixth floor was just ahead or if they needed to turn right here. Scorpius Malfoy squinted up for a second too, but as he obviously couldn't see what she was trying to envision, he continued as though it hadn't happened.

"Plays on the Quidditch team with me, Al does;" and here he sent yet another smile at her, "he's told me a lot about you."

"Yes, you play Chaser, if I'm right? With Al," Rose added, as she decided it was definitely right and was able to turn her full attention back to the conversation.

"Yeah, he–" Here, unfortunately, Scorpius Malfoy was cut off because of a little incident on Rose's part. You see, Rose was on the left side of Scorpius Malfoy, and as Scorpius Malfoy continued to walk straight, Rose attempted to turn right – and promptly rammed straight into her new patrol partner. They would have both gone down to the floor if Scorpius Malfoy hadn't conveniently staggered back ward a bit and hit the wall.

"Sorry," Rose said, straightening herself hastily and blushing (argh) again. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

Scorpius Malfoy gave a little laugh as he pushed himself off the wall. "Nah," he said casually, "you don't hurt half as much compared to a Bludger," and grinned.

Rose hurried to explain herself. "I was just going to turn right down that corridor," she pointed beyond Scorpius Malfoy's left shoulder, "'cause if I'm right, there should be a shortcut right down that passageway."

"A shortcut?" Scorpius Malfoy swiveled on his heel to peer down the same way her finger had just pointed. "Al's full of shortcuts too," he said, "and his shortcuts usually work, so . . . lead the way!"

"Right," Rose said, and the two of them marched down the corridor together.

"So, you say Al talks about me a lot?" she asked, eyeing Scorpius Malfoy out of her peripheral vision.

"Oh yeah," Scorpius Malfoy replied easily, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Complains about you mostly, really," (half-apologetically but grinning). "Sometimes goes into these random fact modes, though, where he'll just spew random facts about his relatives as we're changing. Is it a Weasley thing?"

"Is what a Weasley thing?" she asked, startled.

"The acting like you're a bit off your rocker thing," he said, "and I don't mean that as being, you know, accusing you of anything," he amended quickly, " . . . but I think that it's something in the genes. Makes you guys loads of fun, really," he alleged, noticing her slightly offended glance (she supposed).

"Isn't incest what really makes you crazy? Loads of old blood families to prove it," Rose replied cheekily.

Scorpius Malfoy grinned. "Touché."

He glanced around as they entered the shortcut. "Don't think I've been in this one before," he commented.

"Don't think Al has much cause to wander around the prefect rooms, does he?" Rose said in reply.

"No, he doesn't," Scorpius Malfoy agreed.

They emerged from the shortcut rather quickly, and entered another one in companionable silence.

"Definitely been in this one," Scorpius Malfoy said.

"Arithmancy classroom's in this wing," Rose twisted her mouth, thinking. "Is that it?"

"Al doesn't take Arithmancy," Scorpius Malfoy pointed out.

"Hmm . . ." For all her supposed braininess, Rose couldn't think of what else resided on this half of the sixth floor.

The two appeared from behind a tapestry some ways down from the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. As they loped back towards it, Rose said, "Well, if you think of whatever it is that's on the sixth floor, tell me."

"I will," Scorpius Malfoy said. "Dragon bloom," he added, and the portrait swung forward to admit them. "See ya later, Rose," Scorpius Malfoy said, as they parted to go their separate ways in the common room, throwing one last smile at her.

"See you later, Scorpius Malfoy," Rose echoed.

Scorpius Malfoy's widening grin shined in the dim lighting of the common room. "Just Scorpius."

"See you later, Scorpius," Rose repeated accordingly.

With one last smile exchange, Scorpius headed off towards some corner of the common room, and Rose headed towards her dormitory, where her friends were undoubtedly waiting to learn what she thought of her new partner.

It didn't occur to Rose until after the tale was told, exclamations were made, defenses and excuses were given, and they were all getting ready for sleep that she had knowingly invited close contact with Scorpius Malfoy. Just Scorpius, that was. Well, Rose supposed this could be one of the times where her dad couldn't hold judgment. After all, _he _hadn't personally met Scorpius Malfoy – just Scorpius.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Almost, kind of, sort of, but not really sequel/companion to the previous chapter. Rose and Scorpius bear the same characters as they did in the previous, so I suppose you could treat it as a sequel-ish thing.**

* * *

Scorpius was giving her a weird look.

Truth be told, Rose was used to getting weird looks, what with the facts that a) her parents were famous and b) she had a professed "off her rocker" gene, but she wasn't used to getting them from Scorpius. Scorpius just wasn't the sort of person to give weird looks. He gave smiling, charismatic looks; he gave wincing, sympathetic looks; in short, he could give every sort of look that an easygoing, generally liked person gave. But weird looks was just something he didn't do.

Scorpius made a point of never judging anybody at first glance, she had learned, in her several months with him as a new acquaintance, and, incidentally, her patrol partner (which was probably the reason she knew him as well as she did. Three hours straight of wandering the castle all alone did give for a wide range of conversation topics.) So one can easily see how Scorpius giving off any degree of weirdness was unnatural.

This was why Rose decided to seek him out immediately after class, under the pretense of a prefect question of some sort, (even though she didn't really need excuses anymore), and demand the reason for this oddness.

As it turned out, Scorpius was looking for her too, and fate brought them together at 9:32 on Tuesday morning after Arithmancy class.

"Why were you giving me a weird look today, Scorpius? What ghost is possessing you to act weirdly on this otherwise very fine morning?" Rose did not have the quietest of voices to begin with, what with growing up in an exceedingly large family and all; add that to the fact that she was rather concerned for her acquaintance, and there were several people passing by that gave her strange looks.

Strange looks – the whole point of this madness; the irony did not escape her.

Before starting on whatever it was that was making him act so strangely, however, (stalling?) Scorpius leaned against the wall, evidently amused, (or so she gathered from the grin on his face), and commented, "You know, ghosts don't possess people. And if any of the ghosts were around to hear you saying that, they would probably be highly offended."

"And that, of course, would make you highly offended as well," Rose retorted, "for that would mean that they were judging me at first glance without knowing that I, in reality, have a very high regard for ghosts, and was simply speaking carelessly in the heat of the moment. And Scorpius, of course, cannot condone judgment at first glance."

Scorpius inclined his head diplomatically to acknowledge that this was true, but the amused grin did not fade from his face. Rose huffed and shook herself as if pulling herself out of a deep dream.

"Anyways, that's beside the point! The point was the weird look. You," Rose pointed an accusing finger at Scorpius, "simply do not give weird looks. You don't have the assertiveness for that – don't take that as an insult," she added quickly, before Scorpius even began to feel offense, "rather, take it as a compliment of your easygoing nature." She declared this last bit rather dramatically, and Scorpius bit his lip to repress a grin.

"Well, in that case, I thank you very much, Rose," he said, another amused grin twitching the corners of his mouth however hard he tried to repress it.

Living with Rose Weasley was quite a bit like a constant laugh. Her quirks were simply hilarious. Even Al, who was the first Weasley Scorpius had noticed acting a bit odd, paled in comparison to Rose. It was what made her personality so enjoyable. She was quick to jest, and though not half as easygoing as Scorpius, was still more likely to laugh at herself with the others than to stick her nose up in the air and be offended at the slightest laugh pertaining to her words.

This train of thought brought him back around to the subject which had started this conversation, which was his weird look. The thing was – which he couldn't very well simply admit to Rose – was that she was different today. Her wild hair seemed brighter, blue eyes livelier, every simple comment twice as interesting. He looked forward to their patrols as much as he looked forward to after-practice conversations with Al, and that was saying something. There had been nothing, not even seeing his relatives after a long absence, which had been quite the same as talking and laughing with Al as there had been no one to talk and laugh with before he came to Hogwarts. And now there suddenly was.

No, Scorpius admitted, it was never the fact that Al was his only friend. Scorpius was friendly with most of the people in his House, as easygoing and good-natured as he was, and he never had a problem with company itself; but there is a difference between being friendly and being friends.

Rose was nearing very fast the category of being friends, no more than an inch away, really, and it slightly scared Scorpius how quickly it had happened. It had taken him and Al nearly three years to reach the comfort they were at now, and with Rose it had taken barely three months.

Yes, Rose was different, but Scorpius had yet to figure out why. And here was the source of those weird looks; but he wasn't planning on telling her anytime soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It's not really an L/J one-shot. For some reason, I just really like writing Lily Evans and co. in the morning. :)**

* * *

At precisely 7:00 on that very fine morning, Lily Evans awoke to the sun's rays dancing across her face, and, not so pleasantly, the incessant beeping noise of her alarm clock. The latter was what she woke up to every day, and, as usual, was turned off with a groping hand and a grumble. The former was not so commonplace, and might indeed have been what made that morning so very fine. Not only was it perpetually rainy in Scotland, the curtains were also usually shut that early in the morning, not allowing the sunlight to enter the room when it did make an appearance.

Lily Evans threw the covers off her body, allowing the chill of the room to permeate her skin so as not to succumb back to the beckoning pleasure of sleep. She shivered and reluctantly opened her eyes; they gradually became used to the uncommonly bright lighting of the room. Only then, some three or four minutes later, did she groggily sit up and scan the room's occupants.

"Why oh why didn't I think to close my bed curtains last night?" Ah; Marlene had stirred. Evidently the lack of darkness had woken her up as well. Or it might have been the alarm clock; Lily wasn't sure. Either way, at least she was awake; that was a feat in itself because Marlene was definitely not an early bird.

"Maybe because we stayed up late last night to exchange sweets and bemoan the woes of adolescent life?" Alice was awake too, groggily rubbing at her eyes despite her sardonic tone.

Lily hopped up, determined to get the first shower and thereby the hot water. On her way, she passed by Mary's bed. She swatted at the girl in it, whose hand lay over her eyes, shielding them from the sun.

"Up you get, Mary; no snoozing."

There was no reply except for a grimace and a half-hearted swipe in return. Lily let it go for the time being; she continued to the bathroom.

When she came out of the shower, ten minutes earlier than she'd have liked, conscious of the other girls waiting for their own turn, the dormitory was considerably more active than it had been when she'd left it.

"I haven't got a clean shirt! Alice, have you got a clean shirt?" Marlene called across the room, half her body in her trunk as she rummaged.

"Get Lily to do her nifty ironing charm on one of yours," Alice yelled back as she sat at the girls' shared makeup desk, applying mascara.

Mary seemed to be frantically searching for something; she spotted Lily and let out a sigh of relief. "Lily, have you seen my navy socks? I can't find them and Alice won't help me!"

"Mare, the house elves took them for cleaning last night, remember?" Lily replied. "Now go take a shower; I'll lend you my white ones for today."

As Mary gathered her makeup and went, muttering about her dislike of white socks, Marlene called, "Lily, when you get dressed could you please clean my shirt?"

Lily replied in the affirmative and Marlene went over to sit with Alice at the mirror still in her pajamas, bumping her hip against Alice's and demanding, "Budge over."

"Things would go so much faster in the morning," Lily teased, as she pulled on her blouse, her skirt, her socks, her shoes, and her robes, in that order, "if you guys readied your clothes the day before, like I do."

"We can't all be organizing geniuses like you, Lil," Marlene retorted, attempting to brush through her long brown hair and apply foundation at the same time.

"Slow down, Lena," Lily called back as she threw socks onto Mary's bed and made her way over to Marlene's, where a wrinkled shirt lay. "You don't want to get foundation in your hair." She continued as she cast a nonverbal cleaning charm on the shirt: "And why you wear that stuff anyways is beyond me . . . you have perfect skin!" This as she flicked her wand and steam rushed out of the tip, smoothing and heating the shirt in a matter of seconds.

"Shut it, I do not. In fact, I can feel a pimple forming right now!" Marlene declared dramatically. Lily and Alice laughed.

Lily walked over to the table. "Go get dressed while your shirt's still warm." Marlene stuck her tongue out at Lily's reflection ("Yes, mum,") as she smoothed her bangs one last time and hopped up. Lily took her place next to Alice.

"I want to do something different with my hair," Alice began quietly as Marlene banged around her bed, getting dressed and letting out the occasional swear, "but it's so short I can't even make it wavy." She surveyed her straight blonde tresses, cut to a bob, critically.

"Technically, there are spells you could learn to charm your hair wavy," Lily answered as she brushed through her own thick auburn hair, "and even make it longer. But we've been over this: it's cute the way it is and I think you should keep that way."

"Nothing I could do right now anyways, I guess," Alice shrugged. "Can I do some eye shadow on you today, Lil?" She asked, brightening as she watched Lily uncapping her eyeliner.

"Alice, it's just Monday," Lily laughed, "nothing special about today."

"At least put on that green eyeliner you have instead of black," Alice pleaded, "it makes your eyes pop."

Lily paused and surveyed the dark green eyeliner she'd gotten from Mary for her birthday this year skeptically for a while.

"Oh, fine," she finally acquiesced, "I guess I could do that; no one will notice the difference anyways."

"Sure they won't, Lily," Alice snorted. "It only makes your eyes look even brighter green than they already are."

Lily shrugged noncommittally as she recapped the black eyeliner and uncapped the green.

"Good choice, Lily," Mary complimented as she finally emerged from the bathroom, hair and face ready but body wrapped in a towel, "your eyes look great today."

Alice shot her a smug look. Lily sighed and held up her hands in defeat, grinning. "Alright, alright, no need to be so smug."

"If you guys will just wait a couple secs," Mary called from her bed, "I'm almost dressed."

"Go on, then," Marlene said, closing her book bag.

Lily walked over to grab her own. She'd bought it six years ago back when she'd first found out she was a witch; it was frayed and old now. But for Lily it held a certain charm. It had been basic black at first, but over the years it had gotten personalized. There were silver lilies drawn all over it; the letters SS and a little cauldron steaming sketched into a corner; the letters MLAM (Marlene, Lily, Alice, Mary) with a drawing of two hands holding each other taking up a whole side of it; in another corner the words JP + LE = heart, surrounded by Snitches and broomsticks, where they'd been etched back in fourth year by you-can-guess-who. All in all, it was quite important to Lily, and she held most of her worldly possessions in it (the books, at least).

All the girls' book bags were personalized in this way: Alice had 'Alice in Wonderland' (written by Lily) engraved on hers, surrounded by mushrooms and cards and rabbits; Marlene's was covered in marbles (made by Mary when she'd been insane on the nicknames in third year, thus 'Marbles') and doodles of Marlene's own creation; and Mary's contained information about all the Hogwarts people she'd ever known: name, several facial features, and one personality element (she liked to keep track of people). All four girls had one side of their book bag taken up by the initials MLAM and the sign of the two hands, to signify their everlasting friendship.

Why get a bothersome bracelet or necklace when you could have a friendship book bag? Lily chuckled at the memory this brought on. She heaved her bag over her shoulder and joined her friends as they filed out of the dorm and towards the stairs.

"What're you laughing about?" Mary asked, walking beside Lily as they made their way down the stairs. Ahead, Marlene and Alice were discussing the best time to finish their Herbology essay, due that day.

Lily simply gestured to the words on her bag; Mary broke into a huge smile as she understood. "That was a good night, _the _best night of all best nights," she reminisced.

"Speaking of nights, I _completely_ regret ditching my poor old Herbology essay for you three marble-heads last night," Lily tossed her head to hide her mocking grin.

"Come on, admit it, Lil, you had a great time," Mary coaxed, as Marlene exclaimed, "Lily! The nickname! We agreed that we wouldn't remind Mary. At any cost. _Ever_," she added vehemently, grinning.

"What? _Marbles_?" Lily asked in mock confusion, pronouncing the world slowly and carefully to tease her friend.

"Lily!" Marlene shrieked in pretend alarm as they crossed the common room to the portrait hole.

"Moving on to more important things, when are we going to get that essay done?" Lily persisted.

A heavy arm draped itself across her shoulders and a deep voice answered, "Live a little, Evans. One missed essay isn't going to give you a T in any class." And, added in a begging tone, "Why don't I get to call you Lil?"

Lily looked up to meet the bright eyes of her new acquaintance, James Potter. "I'd prefer not to risk it, thanks, Potter," she answered shortly. "And as for the second part of that statement, this," she gestured to the arm still across her shoulders in partial disgust, "is exactly the answer to your question."

"One of the fittest blokes in school can't keep his ruddy hands off you," Mary muttered, "and you're _complaining_?" Marlene and Alice broke out into loud laughter upon hearing this.

"Why am I friends with you lot again?" Lily asked, rolling her eyes but half-smiling and giving in to the arm nonetheless.

"_Because_," Mary answered, putting a hand to her heart and fluttering her eyelashes ridiculously, "we're wonderful, and hilarious, and we bribe you with expensive chocolate and you love us!"

"Don't remind me," Lily sighed. Suddenly her eyes sparked mischievously and her hand twitched towards her wand. "I mean, you wouldn't want me to . . . spasm, or anything, and oh-so-accidentally . . . I don't know, get rid of that little acronym so obnoxiously taking up space on my bag?"

Marlene put a dramatic hand to her throat. "You wouldn't dare!" She cried shrilly, eyes twinkling. "And sever all ties of friendship with the world? You simply wouldn't!"

Potter guffawed loudly. "What are you talking about anyways?" He asked, eyes searching Lily's bag. "Mlam?" Pronouncing it as a word.

The girls broke into laughter. Lily recovered long enough to sarcastically tease, "No, _jam_, Potter," before descending into mirth again.

As the girls calmed down slightly, Alice looked up at Potter from under hooded eyelids. "No, he is not ready yet;" she murmured in a dark, mystic voice, "not ready to be entrusted with the dark and dangerous secret of – _mlam_!"

High peals of laughter sounded again.

"You sound like that new Divination witch, Trelawney," Potter snickered, rather confused but finding at least this funny in the situation.

The laughter was renewed yet another time as the five entered the Great Hall.

"You know, there's something different," Potter mused, fifteen minutes later, as they ate in contented silence, "about you today, Evans, but I can't quite pinpoint it. Your eyes are awfully bright and pretty, though. Even more enchanting than when I last saw them; and, trust me, that's saying a lot. Ask Pads if you don't believe me." He gestured to his friend, who sat beside him. Black grinned through a mouthful of pancakes and syrup and nodded vigorously, making a throat-cutting motion with his hand.

Alice once again sent a pointed look towards Lily.

"Thanks, Potter," she said sarcastically, before turning towards Alice and saying, "I admit defeat, alright? You were right."

"That smug grin can stop now," she added when a few minutes later, Alice had not abated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alice snorted, and tried to hum innocently into her oatmeal.

"Alice, you sound like a bee," Marlene tittered.

"What, bees are happy, I'm happy; I like being right."

"Don't we all," Potter muttered.

"Especially when it's Lily who's wrong," Mary added with an evil grin.

"Especially," Potter agreed.

"Because she's always so awfully _right_," Alice said.

"Is it National Gang Up on Lily day or something?" Lily asked, pretending to be offended, as she took a bite of her toast.

"Oh, Lily," Marlene sighed as if Lily was being very naïve, "it's _always _Gang Up On Lily day."

"Especially because you're always right; you need to be wrong every once in a while, it's good for you," Alice snickered.

Lily shook her head at her mental friends. "You are mental," she informed them all. "I told Alice I would wear green eyeliner instead of black and all of a sudden you go all self-righteous on me."

"Coming from the queen of self-righteousness herself," Potter teased.

"Hey!"

A very fine morning indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Strange because it was sunny, beautiful and happy outside when I wrote this.**

* * *

The lake was glassy, still; tranquil, perfect. So blue it was almost black. _Black._ The shit that had made him as fucked up as he was.

It's not that he didn't enjoy sex; he did. But it was only to help him forget the vile relatives for a while.

It's not that he didn't enjoy pranking Slytherins; he did. But it was only a way for him to get revenge on the stupid bastards.

It's not that he didn't enjoy being in Gryffindor; he did. But it was only a way for him to separate himself from the others.

It's not that he didn't love being friends with 'blood traitors' and halfbloods; he did. But it was only a way to rile his shitty family up even more.

Half the time it was whole and pure and fun and careless. But it was times like these, in the _black_ of night when he was all alone and there was no Prongs to convince him otherwise, that he sat there and let the darkness, the _hatred_, consume him.

In times like these there was no Sirius Black. There was only hatred and bigotry and selfishness and bribery and pain and guilt and a whole plethora of emotions that would have killed him long ago if he didn't have James.

James sodding Potter. A blood traitor. A man of honor. A man of purity – the right kind of purity.

_James _didn't play pranks on the Slytherins to actually harm them. _James _wouldn't have meaningless sex with meaningless girls. _James_ didn't have a shitty family to rile up. _James' _family was perfect.

He hated them. He hated the whole lot of them – James, Charles, and Nira. Them with their perfect honor and their perfect sense and their perfect righteousness and their bloody perfectionism . . . they didn't have any dark, secret, screw-ups. They weren't stupid and child abusive. They weren't insane. They didn't enjoy hurting people.

They never thought of even contemplating fucking suicide. They never had reason to cut themselves. They never had reason to jump off the Astronomy tower. They never had reason to whack a Bludger into themselves on purpose. They never had reason to fall off their brooms on purpose.

If James had been in his position . . . fuck, James wouldn't even have been in this position. James would never have gotten to the point where he was seriously contemplating just falling out of this window. James would prank them and ignore them and insult them in the safety of his dormitory and then that was that. He would have simply forgotten them.

Well, he wasn't James bloody Potter. . .

He sat in silence for several bitter minutes.

. . . but who was to stop him from doing the same thing?

He stood slowly from the window seat. He spared a glance at the sleeping James Potter. He went to bed.

For the first time in months, he got a healthy night's sleep.

And, _fuck_, it felt good. Better than any of the other shit had ever felt.


End file.
